His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. "Does your father doubt it? Speak! tell me!" Winifred made no answer. Moving room to room it was. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared.
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